I was sweating as I dropped my son off at his first day of school. After a cooler-than-normal summer, the sudden heat of autumn radiated up from the playground blacktop. I could tell he was nervous; so was I. The difference: my son is a 7th grader.

“Now at last I feel free to die.” The father who told me that was relatively young, but had just made arrangements for his son with autism spectrum syndrome to live in a support home and work in a day program.

“Congratulations,” I said because adult children with autism need to...[Read More]